WE all have to leave our youth behind at some point. Look, there it goes, sobbing and waving in your rearview mirror as you accelerate away down the winding highway towards wizened, crotchety fustiness and beyond.

By the time you pull over at the first layby on the dual carriageway of the ageing process, you’ve developed so many lines on your face, the Transport Scotland workers have to come out and re-paint your crow’s feet before adding your fizzog to the road markings section of the Highway Code.

Oh to be young again eh? The diarist was reminded of his advancing years recently when news drifted in from the shires of South America that Fernando Ovelar had scored for Paraguayan top-flight team Cerro Porteno in their Superclasico against arch-rivals Olimpia. The wee rascal is just 14.

Of course, the emergence of teeny-bopper Ovelar, who is apparently being scouted by Manchester City, is hardly a new development in the world of sport. He’s something of a veteran, mind you, compared to Bolivia’s Mauricio Baldivieso, who made his debut in his country’s premier division as a 12-year-old.

Back in the swinging 60s, Beverley Klass was striding out on the LPGA Tour . . . at the age of 10. Klass had been golfing for six years, could reportedly drive a ball some 223 yards and had won the 1964 National Pee Wee Championship by 65 strokes.

The diarist, meanwhile, is at an age when pee wee is not a championship, merely a strained exercise. Talking of strained exercises, playing for Scotland these days seems to be just that. Ahead of tonight’s game with Albania,

Alex McLeish has had to deal with a spate of call-offs and knock-backs as he pieces together a team that resembles a Heath Robinson contraption.

At this rate, Big Eck will be so used to coping with withdrawals, he’ll get drafted into the cabinet to aid the Brexit negotiations . . .

*How the other half live eh? Cristiano Ronaldo, a man with so much money he gels his hair with melted coins, spent £27,000 on two bottles of wine in a fancy bar the other night.

Ronaldo and his better half tossed away £18,000 on a bottle of Richebourg Grand Cru to wet the whistle and another £9000 on a 1982 Pomerol Petrus.

The diarist looks forward to displaying a similar level of nonchalant excess at the sports desk’s Christmas knees-up in The Iron Horse.

*Who’d be a referee? David McNamara has been suspended for three weeks for deciding the kick-off between Manchester City and Reading in a Women’s Super League game through the controversial method of rock-paper-scissors.

McNamara had left his coin in the dressing room and binned the traditional toss in favour of the hand game. The FA beaks were not amused and McNamara has accepted a charge of “not acting in the best interests of the game.”

Here in Scotland, meanwhile, wonky whistler, Willie Collum, was set to employ the rock-paper-scissors approach but he booked the rock, sent-off the paper and mistook the scissors for Daniel Candeias. Rangers are launching an appeal . . .

*Ah the glory days of expenses, when you could shove through a receipt for a three course dinner of swan fillets and unicorn tartlets washed down with a bottle of Chateau Lafite 1787 before an Albion Rovers v Cowdenbeath midweek game and nobody would bat and eyelid.

These days, things are tighter than Barry Manilow’s face on a frosty morning.

The Japanese rugby team, who play England today in an Autumn Test, are on a daily allowance of just £13.64.

In swanky London, that will barely cover the cost of a fried woodlouse for your tea. The diarist should know. I got one rejected on my last expense claim . . .

*The joy of text? Aussie cricketer Mitchell Starc had his contract with Indian Premier League side Kolkata Knight Riders terminated by a text message.

Starc was one of the most expensive players in the IPL when he was bought for £1.14m. So expensive in fact, it seems Kolkata couldn’t afford the price of a phone call.

Give it time and the fitba’ transfer window will soon be conducted through the medium of shadow puppetry.

*The march of technology continues with the news that the English Premier League will employ video assistant referees (VAR) next season after clubs agreed in principle to their introduction.

Here in Scotland, meanwhile, the standard of refereeing has caused so much harrumphing of late, the game’s chiefs are set to introduce radical measures. That’s right, a qualified referee.